


The Long Rain Falls

by lulebell



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Episode 1x22, Implied Relationship, Missing Scene, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulebell/pseuds/lulebell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looks behind her, eyeing the door; soon it would push open and the next twenty years of her life would begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Rain Falls

The room is lit with candles; an open window flickers their glow. Here, she waits patiently for the inevitable to happen. She absently strokes the silk bed spread with her hand, thinking about the woman who spent days at her loom making it, how her fingers went red, raw from exhaustion.

Sweat and blood made this - sweat and blood will break me here.

She closes her eyes in an effort to blink back the tears.

_You chose this - you knew the consequences. _

She straightens her back and folds her hands on her stomach.

This was the only choice, she reminds herself more fervently but stops herself before she can replay their conversation again in her head. It's too late now, regardless.

She looks behind her, eyeing the door; soon it would push open and the next twenty years of her life would begin.

She breathes deeply and remembers times that were worse than this... when life was far more difficult than what it's about to be... but then again, she was with him and things were never as that bad then.

The door swings open violently and he's standing in the frame, puffing himself up, filling the structure, blocking the only escape.

He eyes her carefully, reading her inside and out; he offers her nothing - no comfort, no emotion, nothing she can back up against. She's alone and he makes sure she knows it.

"My lovely wife," he starts and she shudders; a gust of wind blows several candles out.

He moves towards the bed and reaches out to touch her shoulder, her black locks entwined in his fingers, but she surprises them both when she doesn't flinch. She stands her ground; the epitome of strength and grace, soon to crumble and decay.

He starts unlacing her dress.

She closes her eyes and feels his hands on her body... feels the power, their weight, their gravity. She's convinced she can feel caked blood on his skin. She refuses to look. Instead, she closes her eyes and thinks of no one but Richard.

His hands are moving up her body: his hands are kind and compassionate and loving and caring and everything that your love's hands should be.

She sees him in the flame on the candle of the nearby bedside table. She sees his face, his smile, his lips conform to hers, graze her skin and set her ablaze.

She's on fire: her whole body screams out in pain but her voice refuses to acknowledge it. She clenches her lips together and arches her back, wiggling up the bed, as far away from him as she can get.

His hands clamp down around her stomach and he is nose to nose with her:

"You promised you'd be my wife in every way," his voice is thick with oil. She stops wiggling and allows him to continue, eyes clamped shut.

_Richard! Richard! _ she screams into the dark abyss of her mind. _I'm... I couldn't... I'm sorry, Richard..._

She feels him climax and he crawls off of her body, panting.

She lays perfectly still, a mess of white satin stained with black and red surrounds her; she's lost.

She lets a tear escape and it rolls down her cheek, over her lips, splashing on to her chin.

There's a faint rustling of clothing at her side and she glances over to find Rahl standing beside her. He reaches out and places a hand on her abdomen. Neither of them speak, neither of them have to. They both know.

It's only a matter of time before he has what he wants. She can feel the weight crashing down around her as he exits the room; it closes with a soft click.

She seeks solitude in the pillow, lolling her head over, squeezing tears from underneath her clenched lids.

A single candle remains. It's light stretches out and gathers her up into it's heat, it's comfort.

She nods and remembers why.

_It's for him. It's for them. It's for what could have been, for what exists now only in her heart. _

It's the only thought that lets her sleep, knowing that slowly, something inside of her is starting.


End file.
